You Are The Reason
by JennaKaylor
Summary: What if Wyatt got his crap together after saving Kennedy?
1. Chapter 1

_It had been a really fucked up three days for Wyatt Logan. Little did he know it was about to get a hell of a lot worse._

He sat with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He didn't need a glass. Why take a glass when it was easier to chug it like water? His hand shook as he brought the bottle to his lips, his breath came out as a ragged hiss after his six consecutive swallows. He needed to get drunk. He needed to forget the mess his life was at that moment.

Three days ago he had made love to Lucy between Hedy Lemar's silk sheets. He could still see her pale skin glowing in the firelight as he hovered over her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her body welcoming his thrusts with such ease, as if she had been made for him alone. He remembered the feel of her breasts against his chest as he gradually gave her the weight of his body, the kiss he had given her that had been so much more carnal than the languid slow strokes he used to pleasure her. He remembered the way she had trembled against him, the way she had clung to him when it had all become too much and the peaceful oblivion for him when he followed her. He had taken her three times that night and once more the next morning after Rufus had come looking for them and each time was like it's own little miracle. He had forgotten what it was like to be that happy, to just bask in the glow of someone else for no other reason than you could.

Not even taking that long drive to Oakland to get Garcia Flynn out of jail had been able to erase that feeling of contentment. Especially when on the way back, Lucy had slid across that seat just to put her head on his shoulder and dream. He did a little dreaming of his own on that moonlit drive back to the lifeboat. He dreamed of their future; of weddings and children. A life full of laughter and loving Professor Lucy Preston-Logan for the rest of his life. It made him smile the way she curled herself into him when he had woken her in the predawn light. That sleepy smile she gave him when he buckled her in made his heart skip a beat. There was nothing that could have taken that feeling of contentment away from him. Re-entry nausea be damned.

It had been full dark by the time they made it back to the bunker. Jiya had apparently been asleep at the computers, startled awake by all the noise. Rufus had sent him a sly wink as Lucy left the lifeboat before them and muttered, _Take our room tonight, you little lovebird._ Wyatt had just shaken his head at Rufus' laugh and tried not to smile. He remembered his own words, _Nah, he'll be cool._ Yeah, Rufus was the most _uncool_ dude you could have ever met, but he had just done him a considerable solid. He briefly wondered if they could make this arrangement permanent without raising too many eyebrows. It wasn't like he was exactly _subtle_ when it came to Lucy. Trying to break through a door with a grinder to find someone kinda gives you a reputation.

He had slipped an arm around her waist as they walked the corridor to his room, placed a kiss on her head when she leaned into him. She was so tired she didn't even change her clothes, only kicked off her shoes and dove under his sheets. When he had jokingly asked how she knew which bed was his, she didn't even open her eyes to respond. Apparently when you have your shoes dress right dress from largest to smallest under your bed, you have a tell. He opened his mouth to say something, but she was already asleep. He watched her as he shed his 1940's clothes and he didn't think he would ever get tired of looking at her. He didn't bother with pajamas because if he had his way, they definitely wouldn't be needed by morning. And as he fell asleep wrapped around her body, his face in her hair, he didn't think his life could get any better.

Clothes had definitely not been needed the next morning. Or in the shower. Or again in his room before she said they needed to make an appearance before Agent Christopher got back. Board games were all well and good, but the sight of her in his clothes had him plotting to find all of hers and have them mysteriously disappear. Not even the irritation of Flynn walking into the bunker could break the happy hold she had on his heart.

There was nowhere to go but down, right?

Yep.

Which had led him to exactly where he was at the moment. His not so dead wife was asleep in his room, while the woman he loved was asleep in hers. Rufus had temporarily moved in with Mason to give him space to figure out what he wanted. Like it was easy. If he knew what he wanted, he wouldn't be sitting here trying to get shitfaced on the couch in this stupid bunker. He remembered the desperation in his voice when he asked Jessica to give him one last chance. He had wanted to prove that he wasn't that guy that she had been married to, that he wasn't that dick that cheated on her while they were married. Did it really count as cheating if he didn't know she was alive?

But maybe he wasn't all that different from the man Jessica knew. Being married again didn't stop him from sneaking into Lucy's room before he had to jump to 1934 to check on her. It didn't stop him from pressing a kiss that she wouldn't remember to her hot, cracked lips. It didn't stop him from whispering _I love you_ into her ear, even though she wouldn't hear it. It didn't stop him from pulling Jiya to the side and demanding that she take care of Lucy while he was gone.

He didn't even wake Jessica to tell her he was leaving.

Then it all went to hell and they had to bring JFK to the bunker, then the kid was _gone_ and he was stuck in his own private hell with Lucy _and_ Jessica. He briefly wondered what he had done in his life to deserve this as they drove to the closest gas station to see if they could find the missing president-to-be. Once there, Lucy had gone over her plan and he asked without thinking, _Who am I?_ They always had a story. He was always her husband, Fiance, Lover. _You're my friend. We can be friends right?_ She might as well have punched him in the face. They could _never_ just be friends. He knew he was looking at her a little too long with his wife right next to him, but he couldn't make himself look away.

Then they were at the hospital and Emma had a knife to Lucy's throat. He couldn't contain the panic that crawled over his skin. He couldn't get a clear shot. That wasn't exactly true, he had the shot but he couldn't risk Lucy. The fear in her eyes gnawed at his heart. The sound of Emma's laughing voice boiled his blood. _Maybe her life doesn't matter anymore now that you have your wife back._ He couldn't help the shudder of pure hatred that went through him. _You fucking bitch._ Emma's smile was pure evil. _What's the matter, Logan? You don't like my gift? That hurts. I spent a lot of time figuring out when to give it to you. When it would mean the most to you._ He felt his hand tighten on the grip of his weapon as he watched Emma tighten her grip on Lucy, shove the knife a little deeper into her tender skin. _This feels like old times, right Princess? Did you tell him about all the good times we had for those six weeks?_

He felt his heart stop. His eyes moved over to Lucy's and he could already see the tears falling down her face. He remembered all the times he had asked her and all the times she shut him down. To see the smug look on Emma's face was enough to make his stomach twist into knots. He couldn't help but wonder, but now he wasn't quite sure if he really wanted to know. _You didn't tell him?_ Emma hissed in Lucy's ear loud enough for him to hear it. _You should have heard the way she screamed when we showed her the paper. Poor thing cried for hours, didn't you Princess? Cried herself to sleep every night._ He could hear Lucy's tearful whispers to him, _Do it! Do it!_ A litany in his head that played over and over, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk her.

He gasped as Lucy did when Emma dug the knife a little bit further into her neck until a small red drop appeared at the tip and Wyatt was pretty sure he was losing his goddamn mind as the first tear trailed down his cheek. _The next time I see you, I swear to God I'm going to kill you._ His voice was rough and full of promise. Emma's laugh sent shivers down his spine, _You could kill me now if you weren't so afraid you'd hurt her. Sometimes being in love is a pain in the ass._ Before he could respond Emma pushed Lucy into his arms and disappeared down the hall.

He had Lucy in his arms in an instant, cradling her against his body as they sunk down on the floor together, his weapon forgotten on the floor between their knees. He couldn't stop touching her, anywhere he could reach her. Her face, her neck, her hair, her back. She was sobbing against him, the loud gasping sobs he had only heard after 1918. He pressed his forehead against hers, clumsily tried to wipe away the tears that still streaked down her face in rivers of sorrow. _It's okay, Lucy. You're okay. I'm right here. It's okay._ She shook her head against his and pulled away far enough to look him in the eyes. She couldn't stop crying and he didn't know how to help. All he could do was take care of her.

He moved her head to the side so he could examine the cut Emma had given her. It wasn't deep, but was still sluggishly oozing blood. He licked the pad of his thumb and brushed away the worst of it. The feel of her pulse beneath his touch was a haunting reminder of how close Emma had come to her artery. How close he came to losing her. He could feel the rumble of her voice against his hand, the gasping breaths she took as she spoke. _They had the recordings Rufus made. They kept playing you saying my name over and over. At first I thought I was going crazy, then I thought you were actually there. I kept screaming for you until I realized they were playing a game with me. They were trying to break me… so I figured out what I was fighting for. I was fighting for you._

He couldn't have stopped his tears from coming then if he tried. The thought of her being trapped with those monsters, with a mother who was supposed to love her. With a mother who was supposed to protect her. All on her own with _his voice_ making her crazy. _Lucy…_ her name had come out in an agonizing whisper. It was all starting to make sense now, the thought as he buried his face in her hair. The way she had looked at him like he was a ghost in 1918, the way she would stiffen at the sound of his voice saying her name for _weeks_ after they had rescued her. _I'm so sorry._ He couldn't stop saying it, crying it into her hair while she sobbed into his neck. _I'm so sorry..._

 _Go…_ she told him, _go…_ he didn't understand until he pulled away to look at her face. It had only been about a minute since Emma had left. A minute of his heart being ripped out of his chest. He wiped at his face as he studied her eyes. _Are you sure? Are you alright?_ She nodded again and he brushed a kiss against her forehead before he was out the door. It wasn't until he was getting arrested that he realized Jessica had been in the room and had seen everything.

Well Fuck. Let's have an emotionally intimate moment with the woman you love in front of your not-so-dead wife, who you begged to take you back…idiot.

One problem at a time, right?

He wasn't quite sure what had gone on between Jessica and Lucy after he had been taken away, paperclip in hand. When he drove up he could see the tension in Lucy's back which was never a good sign. He didn't have to look in his wife's eyes to know that whatever was said had her upset. Not that he could blame her. He couldn't imagine what he would do if he saw Lucy in the situation they were just in with someone else. He probably would have killed the guy with his bare hands.

As for the mission? He would have called it an unquestionable success if it hadn't been for Lucy's monosyllabic answers to his questions and his wife's stony silence. How on Earth they were both pissed at _him_ he didn't know, but he wasn't a stupid man. He kept his mouth shut unless he had something important to say. It had only been marginally better after they got JFK back to the car. The teeager had them all chuckling at various intervals, but even that wasn't enough to erase the tension completely.

The moment Wyatt parked the car in front of the silo, Jessica was out and gone. He watched her as she disappeared into the tin can then turned around to see Lucy watching him. _What?_ She gave him look that probably should have filleted the skin off his ass and turned to tell John to go into the bunker. They walked slowly behind him and he waited until John disappeared into the bunker before stopping Lucy. _Listen, I get why she's pissed at me, but why are you?_ She didn't even blink. _You didn't shoot Emma._ She tried to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm and and pulled her toward him. _Are you serious? That's why you're pissed at me? If I would have taken that shot, I could have killed you. So Emma stays alive because I'm not willing to take that risk._ She yanked her arm from his, grimaced as she did so. _Maybe if you had, I wouldn't have had to have the most awkward conversation of my life with your wife._ He watched her walk into the silo and thought, _Well fuck_. He guessed it was time for his own awkward conversation with his wife.

He walked into the room he shared with his wife to the sight of her throwing her possessions into the small bag she had brought with her. _Why the did you even ask me to stay? Why the hell didn't you just sign the divorce papers? Why bring me here into all of this? Why Wyatt?_ This was the wife he remembered. This was the Jessica that his grief had forgot. The girl who flew off the handle, sometimes for good reason, who would scream and throw things and make him lose his ever loving mind. He forgot how much he actually almost missed it until she was throwing obscenities his way. _You know why, Jess. I haven't seen your face in six years. Do you think any of this is easy for me?_ His hands clenched at his sides, his jaw clenched shut. God, why couldn't she just understand?

She scoffed at him, zipping up her bag. _Yeah, I can see how hard my death has been for you. It's so touching to see how much you missed me._ And there was the reaction that she always got out of him. Anger, resentment. _You don't get to do that. You were gone. I grieved for you for almost six years, Jessica. He might have been unfaithful to you, but I never was. I was a goddamn monk until three days ago! Stop acting like this is easy for me! None of this is easy for me! I was finally able to move on from you. From my own guilt. I was happy and then…_ He couldn't finish. Why did they always do this? They always went for the barbs and insults instead of just actually trying to get to understand what the other person was saying. _And then what? I came back? Well I'm sorry for being alive. I'm sorry for ruining whatever happy plans you and Lucy were making._

She went to move past him, but he caught her in his arms and pulled her against him. Her body was as stiff as a board with anger and pain. _No, Jess. Don't ever be sorry for being alive. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about all this, but you being alive? That's a miracle, Jess. Things may be fucked up for me right now, but I will never regret you being alive. If you don't believe anything else I say, please believe that._ He felt her slowly soften against him and rest her head on his chest. _Lucy said I was always there... But I wasn't always there was I?_ He rested his chin on the top her of head and ran his hands down her back. _No. Not always. I had to let you go for my sake. I had to stop living in the past. It nearly cost me everything._ She backed away from him then, opening her bag and pulled out that familiar manilla envelope. _Don't you think it's time we stopped pretending?_

So now he sat, Jack back in 1934 and his divorce papers on the table in front of him, a pen lying next to them. He took another gulp of whiskey as he looked at Jessica's familiar loopy signature at the bottom. Was this what he wanted?

For so long he wanted Jessica back. He wanted to make right all the wrongs. He wanted the chance to be a better person for her and now she was here. Six months ago this would have been the best thing to have ever happen to him. He would have been able to push aside his burgeoning feelings for Lucy and grab this second chance with both hands. He didn't think that was possible now. He and Lucy had been through too much together. They _meant_ too much to each other.

As for Lucy…

He drank deep again and lazily spun the pen on the desk with one finger.

She was pushing him away. Pushing him towards Jessica. He didn't blame her. If the roles had been reversed and her husband had come back from the dead he would have done the same thing. Especially if she had spent the first year of him knowing her doing everything possible to get him back. It wouldn't matter what he felt. He would have loved her enough to let her go. Maybe. He would like to think so, but he wasn't selfless like Lucy. He was a selfish bastard, hence his current position on the couch. And the worst part about all of it? He hurt her. He hurt her and it was killing him. When he literally ran into her on his way for a shower, he had no words. Her eyes were filled with so much pain, so much hurt. He watched her walk away and felt his heart go with her.

So that was the choice he had to make. Did he go with his head, which told him that Jessica was his wife and he had waited _years_ for this. Or did he go with his heart, which told him that he couldn't live without Lucy. That he _needed_ her. That he needed her forever. Always.

 _Maybe her life doesn't matter anymore now that you have your wife back._

 _You saved my life, you know._

 _I think you… we… anyone has to be open to the possibilities._

 _You want to know how to keep doing this? Figure out what you're fighting for and you'll be okay._

 _I've lost everything._

 _You haven't lost me._

 _She's your wife and you love her._

 _I trust you. You're the one that I trust._

 _Yeah, well whatever happens, it'll be worth it to have Jessica back._

 _I am meant to protect the both of you. I see that now._

 _Maybe I do need to be open to the possibilities._

 _The possibilities of what?_

 _I don't know. I just know I'm not really ready to say goodbye yet._

 _You say what's in here. Quit pretending!_

 _You're in love with Lucy! Just admit it!_

Was there a choice?

He loved Jessica, a part of him would _always_ love Jessica, but he was _in love_ with Lucy. He loved everything about her. Every part of her. He couldn't imagine his life without her. He had barely survived losing Jess. He would _never_ survive losing Lucy. So he picked up the pen with a hand much steadier than he ever thought it could be in this kind of situation and signed his name where the cheerful little arrows told him to. He felt a small shiver of sadness, but nothing more. He slid the ring he hadn't worn in 4 years off his finger and laid it next to the pen. He would talk to Lucy tomorrow.

He needed to talk to Jessica.

But first he needed to get sober. He set up the coffee maker and listened to it hiss as he dumped the rest of the whiskey down the sink. The last thing he wanted was to remind her of the drunk she had spent the last six years with. Especially when he was going to talk about the end of their marriage. He was going to tell her everything. Even the parts that would hurt them both.


	2. Already Gone

Thank you for all my lovelies in the Angst Brigade for all the help on this chapter! I love you all more than I can say Chapter Text

 _Remember all the things we wanted?_

 _Now all our memories are haunted_

 _We were always meant_

 _to say goodbye_

 _Already Gone - Kelly Clarkson_

He spent the next few hours drinking coffee and chugging water until his bladder felt like it was going to burst and his stomach felt like it was going to float away. He went over in his mind what he was going to say, went over the answers to the questions he knew she would inevitably ask. He knew he was going to hurt her and it was the last thing he wanted. But he was going to hurt her regardless. Especially if he tried to make it work with her when his heart was with someone else. This way, at least, there would be honesty and closure.

God knew he needed it.

As the first light of the new day made its way into the bunker's dirty windows, Wyatt opened the door of his room, coffee and water in hand the divorce papers under his arm. From what he remembered, Jessica was a notoriously deep sleeper who hated mornings and everything that went with them except for coffee so it was quite a surprise for him to see her sitting on the edge of Rufus' old bed. "Hi. Couldn't sleep?"

"No. Not really. This bunker makes weird sounds." She mumbled, running her hands through her hair. "Is that for me?"

"Yeah," he smiled at her, handing it out. "Um..black with one sugar, right?"

She took a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes. "Oh yeah. You made this, didn't you? You always made better coffee than me."

He laughed, he couldn't help it. "That's because you have to have your eyes open to make it, Jess."

She snickered into her cup. "That was one time, Logan."

He sat down on his bed opposite of her. "Okay, what about the time you tried to bake me a birthday cake and you almost burnt down the apartment? They had to replace the oven!"

Laughter sparked in her eyes over the rim of her coffee cup. "I remember going to the store to pick you up a cake and I didn't get any candles. I was pissed when I got home and you said-"

"We don't need anymore fire today, thanks." Wyatt leaned back against the wall, smiling at her. "That was a good day."

Jessica scooted back against the wall and crossed her legs out in front of her, closed her eyes. "Yeah, it was."

They sat in silence while Jessica finished her coffee. It was nice, he thought, to just be able to sit together. It reminded him of the times when things were a lot less complicated, when there was a lot less heartache. "It wasn't always bad, was it? We had some good times, you and me."

"Yeah, we did." She still hadn't opened her eyes, but she smiled. "I remember the first time I saw you in Mrs. Hollister's sophomore English class. Everyone told me to stay away from you, that you were bad news. I never thought you would look twice at me."

"Why? Don't underestimate braces on a pretty girl to a teenage boy." She opened her eyes then and laughed at his playful smirk. There were so many things he needed to tell her. He stared at her until the smile fell away from both of their faces. "You changed my life. You made me believe that I was worthy of something other than the bullshit my father told me. You were the first person, other than my grandfather, to believe in me. You made me believe in myself. That I could actually _be_ something."

"I-" she had to swallow twice before she could find her voice. "You never told me that."

That, he thought, was another thing to add to his ever growing list of regrets. "I never told you a lot of things I should have."

"Will you tell me now?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. From the moment I died until I came back in your life."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Tell me. I need to know. I need to understand."

He took a long breath and let it out through his nose. "You died three months after I got back from Syria. February 11th, 2012."

He told her and she listened. He told her about his friend Matt and how he slept on an old air mattress in their living room for six months because he didn't want Wyatt to be alone. He told her about all the missions that came after he was cleared to go back to duty. About how he didn't care if he lived or died. He told her about the drinking and how he lived like a hermit until his buddies practically kidnapped him and made him go out into the world again. She was silent through all of it until he told her about jumping on a live grenade during his last mission in Afghanistan.

The shocked look on her face gave him no doubts about her feelings on that subject. "What? Why on Earth would you do something like that?"

He had the good grace to look sheepish. "It didn't go off."

She was pale, but his comment was enough to put color in her cheeks. "Seriously? That's all you have to say? You could have _died,_ Wyatt."

He shrugged as if it was of no consequence. "Better me than the rest of my team. They all had _something_ to go home to. If one of us had do die to protect the others, it was going to be me."

"I.. _Wyatt.."_

"I wasn't suicidal, Jess. I just didn't care." He took a deep breath and looked at her with sad eyes. "You know, I understand your Wyatt more and more looking back. I can see pieces of him in me. The drinking. The way _he_ just didn't care about anything. The only time I was sober for years was when I was asleep or when I was on a mission. I could have turned out that way too."

"What changed?"

"I…" Jesus, here came the hard part. "I don't want to hurt you."

She sighed at him, running her fingers in a circle on the edge of her empty cup. "I already know the answer, Wyatt. I need to understand. Tell me."

"Okay," He sighed, rubbing his hands over his jeans. He made sure he looked her in the eye because what he was about to say was the truth, regardless of how much it hurt her. "I met a girl and she made me want to live again."

The pain flashed in her eyes, but it was mercifully brief. She surprised him by smirking. "Was it love at first sight?"

He couldn't help the laugh and burst from his chest. "God no," he said, shaking his head. "She annoyed the crap out of me. At first everything was always, _No, Wyatt. Don't step in that puddle, you might change history_ or _I'm not a soldier, I don't take orders_. She drove me crazy. She wouldn't listen. I mean, I'm just trying to do my job. I'm trying to take down Flynn and keep her and Rufus alive and I got blowback. It pissed me off."

Jessica's eyes were full of humor as she looked at him. "What changed between you?"

"I don't know," He still couldn't put his finger on when everything changed for him. "We started to trust each other. She became my friend. I would listen to her spout history books and I would just think, _Wow_. I mean, we still fought. We _still_ fight, but it was different. I trust her with my life. I trust her with everything I have."

"When did you fall in love with her?"

"Jess..."

"Listen," she told him, scooting up until she was sitting at the edge of the bed. "I get it. I'm your wife and you're telling me how you're in love with another woman. It's awkward as hell but I need to know."

"I..." he cleared his throat repeatedly. "Are you sure?" He waited until he saw her nod. "There wasn't a _moment_. It was-" He ran his hands over his face, his hair, the back of his neck. "Remember how we used to talk about the lightening bolt? It wasn't like that. It was slower. I can't explain it. Damn it." He shot up off the bed, paced in small circles between the two cots. "I kissed her once during a mission. We were under cover and she was wearing that big stupid diamond from Doctor Douchebag and Bonnie thought we were engaged and Clyde started looking at me-"

"Bonnie? Bonnie and Clyde? Are you telling me you met _Bonnie and Clyde_?"

"Jess...focus."

"Right, sorry. Who is Doctor Douchebag?"

"We came back from our first jump and she had a fiance she knew nothing about. Noah, Nick… whatever." He shrugged because the guy was of literally no consequence anymore. "She broke it off after a while. I met him once. I didn't like him."

"I wonder why?"

"Cute." He said, rolling his eyes. "And then there were all the other guys…"

"Other guys?"

"We couldn't jump anywhere without her getting hit on. Harry Houdini, Ian Flemming, Robert Todd Lincoln. I mean seriously? Every damn place we went, someone was sniffing at her skirts."

"I can't imagine that went over well."

"She didn't even notice half the time. She doesn't even think she's beautiful! And yeah, it bothered me. It pissed me off, but I was trying to find a way to get you back and she knew it. I couldn't say anything without sounding like a possessive asshole."

"Lucy said something about you stealing the Lifeboat."

"I did. I thought I knew who killed you, so I went back and made sure that the guy was never born."

"When you say that you _made sure_..."

He could feel the bile fill his throat. He could almost see the blood on the concrete. "It was an accident. I didn't mean for it to happen."

"Wyatt..."

"And Lucy was right. She knew I was going to do something stupid and fly off the handle. That's why she wanted to go with me."

"Wait, Lucy is _in love_ with you and she wanted to go with you to get _me_ back?"

"That's who she is. If she thinks that it will make someone happy, it doesn't matter how she feels. And the bitch of it is, I knew that I was hurting her when I left her house. I _knew_ it, but I left anyway to try to get you back. There was something between the two of us then, I just didn't know what it was. I just knew that I couldn't feel the way I felt about her if there was a chance I could get you back. I had to try or I would always wonder."

"But it didn't work."

"No. When I got back they took me away and I thought I would never see her again. I had given up everything for a fragment of the past. I was a mess. I failed all of you. I didn't save you, I gave up Lucy. I made her think she was my second choice and she wasn't. It had nothing to do with her. I was the one that needed to know. I was the one that couldn't move on. I can't do that to her again. I can't do that to _myself_ again. I won't."

"How did you get out?"

"Agent Christopher. She came to see me and told me about some things." Lucy's father. Rittenhouse. "Rufus and Lucy were in danger and I needed to be there. I needed to protect her. I focused on that and it grounded me - because that's how it works with us. I can be going out of my mind and all I need is for her to touch my hand, say my name-" he glanced at Jessica and sighed. _Too much. Way too much information to be telling your wife._ "Anyway, Agent Christopher left a paperclip for me. That's how I got out."

Jessica laughed in spite of the pain he saw on her face. "I saw the way you two were at the hospital after you were arrested. She was so sure that you would be back in no time at all. The paperclip."

She was looking at him like she didn't know him. Maybe she didn't anymore, but it didn't stop the hurt from creeping into his chest. He hated that he was the one that was doing this to her. But he couldn't lie. Not anymore. "I'm so sorry, Jessica."

She seemed to understand. He watched her eyes go soft with emotion as the first tear trailed down her cheek. "In all the time I've known you, I've never seen you cry. Not once. Until yesterday. I've never seen you like that. You take her pain and make it yours." She shook her head, wiped impatiently at her tears. "You _love_ her."

He sat on his bed slowly, like a rickety old man. He could feel tears sting his eyes. "I tried not to. I tried to tell myself that she was a friend, that she was my teammate. I fought it for a long time, but she was always there. She was always in here." He said, resting a hand over his heart. "I let you go because I needed to move on but I let her in because I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I'm sorry if that hurts you but I won't lie to you and I won't lie to her. I can't lie to myself."

"Have you told her?"

"No." He whispered, closing his eyes. "Rittenhouse had her for six weeks and I nearly went insane. Then when we got her back she wasn't ready to deal with anything other than herself, and that was fine. Then we finally..." He opened his eyes and shrugged sheepishly. "You know, and then you came back. It's been a hot mess since then." He got off the bed then, dropped to his knees in front of her and took her hands in his. "Jessica, I never meant to hurt you. That's the last thing I ever wanted to do. But I know that if I stay and try to make it work, I'll end up hurting all of us in the long run."

She smiled slightly, moving her hands up to cup his face. "Wyatt Logan, I have never been more proud of you in my life." She pressed her lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss. "I guess you know now. We were always meant to say goodbye."

Wyatt pressed his forehead against hers, ran his hands up her arms to grab her wrists. "I love you, Jessica. I always will."

"Me too, Cowboy. Me too."

They didn't say anything after that. There were no words needed for goodbye.

He left for the showers feeling better than he had in days. Things were good, if not a little weird, between him and Jessica. There was no more guilt, no more unanswered questions or doubts. The only thing he needed to do now was talk to Lucy and pray to God that she would take him back. He would wait. He would wait forever if he meant they would have a future.

He found her in the kitchen, sipping on her habitual mug of tea. She was sitting at the table, her back to him. There was an open book in front of her, but he could tell she wasn't reading. He walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself another cup. God, he needed to sleep sometime today.

He walked up to her slowly and could tell, by the stiffening of her shoulders, when she realized he was next to her. "Hey." He whispered, taking the chair next to her. "How's your arm?"

She shrugged, took a small sip from her mug. "Better. I'll be fine. Just need time."

She wouldn't look him in the eye and he was pretty damn sure she wasn't talking about her arm. He needed to set her straight. Fast. "I did a lot of thinking last night," he told her, taking a sip of his coffee. "I spoke with Jessica this morning about her and me. You and me." He ducked his head and caught her eye. "I made a decision. She and I-"

"That's great." Her smile was forced and her tone suggested it was anything but. "I'm happy for you, Wyatt. You deserve to finally be happy."

She made a move to stand, but he caught her hand before she could walk away. "You don't understand, Lucy."

"No, I get it. I'm happy for you." He could see the tears forming in her eyes and it made him sick to think that she thought he would just _leave_ her. "I'm thrilled for you both."

He stood then, threaded the fingers of the hand he held with his own. "Lucy, I'm not going-"

The alarm blared through the silo, startling them both so much that he let her hand slip through his fingers. He watched her walk away, shouting questions to Jiya and thought _Fucking Rittenhouse._ Would they ever just _stop_ trying to ruin his life?


	3. Chapter 3

_Fucking Rittenhouse._ Would they ever just _stop_ trying to ruin his life?

The answer was a resounding _NO_ , apparently. Agent Christopher had Lucy and Rufus jump with Flynn and _Mason_ of all people and she had even given Flynn a weapon. _Flynn had a damn weapon and was God only knows where with Lucy and Rufus._

He wasn't freaking out. He knew deep down Flynn would keep them safe but that didn't help quell his fears in the slightest. Any time two of them jumped without the third, shit happened. People died, or got stabbed, or got trapped in a murder castle with a serial killer.

He turned on Agent Christopher, not giving a damn that Jiya was right next to her. "I don't know what the hell is going on right now, but I'm gonna tell you something. From now on, my team doesn't jump without me. You can put whoever the hell you want in that fourth seat, but I am there. No discussions. Nothing is more important than my team."

She didn't even bat an eyelash. "Not even stopping Rittenhouse for good?"

He didn't either. "Not even that."

He watched out of the corner of his eye at Jiya trying not to laugh at him.

He couldn't help the smirk that came over his face. "But since I'm here, what's the plan?"

The plan was shit and they all knew it. Even Jiya. But it was the first solid lead they had. It was a chance to end it all. For Lucy to finally have a normal life. It was enough for him to try, danger be damned. So he got ready. Did a thorough PMCS on his weapon and equipment before sitting down and writing a long letter to Lucy. If something happened to him, she deserved to know the truth. She deserved to know that he left his life loving her with every fiber of his being. He had asked Agent Christopher to print out a few forms before he left. His letter wasn't enough. He wanted to make sure that Lucy was taken care of if something happened to him.

Jiya walked into his room as he was signing his name on the letter. "Hey. Are you ready?"

Wyatt nodded.

"I filled out the papers you wanted. Any particular reason you wanted them filled out again with Lucy as your beneficiary?"

Wyatt simply held out his hand for the papers and signed them.

"What do you think, Marri?" he asked as he handed them back to her.

She smiled as she took them back. "I think...there's an impression where your ring used to sit on your finger. Maybe you didn't sleep last night and that's why there's an empty bottle of Jack dumped in the kitchen sink."

It's frightening how perceptive the techie is, no less as sharp in her assessment as his brothers in the field.

"I also think that your wife has either won an all expenses paid trip to Tahiti, or she's waiting at the nearest Greyhound stop, 'cause she's nowhere to be found in the middle of the morning. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but it seems 1941 isn't so far away? How is my thinking, Logan?"

Wyatt laughed as he handed her the letter. Jesus, he could understand why Rufus had it so bad. "Do me a favor? Get those documents into the database as soon as you can and give this to Lucy if I don't make it back."

She snatched the letter from him. "Don't say that. You'll be fine."

He stood up, grabbed his flac vest and put it on. "Listen, I don't know what your timeline is like now, but we were friends in mine. When Lucy was missing, you patched up my hand after I punched a wall in the bathroom. You were the only one that didn't tell me i should give up hope. I need you to do this for me." He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Promise me, Jiya."

"I...I promise." He nodded at her, a small smile creasing his face, as he removed his hands. He went to walk past her, but she caught his hand in hers. "For what it's worth, we were friends in my timeline too."

"Thanks, Jiya."

"No problem. Don't be a hero, okay?"

It didn't take long for the mission to become a complete and total disaster. One man infiltrating a secret sleeper cell was never something that was going to end well. By the end of it, he was bloody and bruised and extremely pissed off. He had the chance to kill Carol Preston and he didn't do it. He hesitated because of Lucy. Because the thought of taking away her last link to Amy was enough to kill him. It didn't matter what she had done. She was still her mother and he wasn't going to be responsible for taking that away from her. It didn't matter what Agent Christopher had been screaming in his ear. He would _never_ do something like that to Lucy.

Then Agent Christopher had the _audacity_ to question his motives and how he did his job.

"I'm sorry? You're the one that sent me in here _by myself_ to get intel. Did you really think this wouldn't happen? Did you really think that I could get in and out of this place without getting noticed? The _only_ reason I am here is because Carol Preston had someone rough you up and threaten your family. You don't get to take the moral high ground with me when you're just as compromised as I am."

When he finally got back to the bunker, the first thing he heard was Lucy's laugh. God, how he wanted that. To be able to come home after a long day and listen to it. Or just watch her sleep. Anything that involved a future with her. But he couldn't have that if he didn't get a chance to talk to her, so when he saw her walking down the hallway with Flynn, he didn't hesitate.

"Lucy, can I talk to you a minute?"

He watched her face fall from a happy laugh to a concerned scowl as she took in his appearance, his weapon in one hand and kevlar in the other. He knew his face was streaked with sweat and dirt and he was just a tad bloody over his right eye. He watched her eyes rake over him and prayed what he saw in them was concern.

"I've had better days," he told her.

"What did Agent Christopher have you do?

"Can we not talk in the hallway? I need to tell you a few things. Can we talk in my room?"

Her eyes flew to his. "What about Jessica?"

"Jessica isn't here."

"What? Why?"

"She left this morning. She's at her apartment packing."

"Oh, she's moving in?"

"More like she's moving on. She's going into Witness Protection."

"Why? We can keep her safe here. You and Jessica-"

"There is no 'me and Jessica' anymore, Lucy. I signed the divorce papers."

Lucy opened her mouth to say something but never got the chance to. Hurried footsteps to his right had him turning and he only had a second to brace himself before Jiya threw herself into his arms.

"Whoa, Marri…" He ignored the pain in his side as he wrapped his arm around her back.

"You are _not_ Chuck Norris, Wyatt Sherwin Logan!" She mumbled into his tactical vest before stepping back and giving him an accusing glance. "Damn you to hell for what you put me through! Did you even _think_ of what would have happened if you died? I swear to God, I would have resuscitated you and killed you myself! I thought for a second I was going to have to give that letter to Lucy! God, I could _kill you..._ "

"Jiya..." He could see the sheen of tears in her eyes and was absurdly touched. He ruffled her hair with his free hand before pulling her into a hug. "I'm okay."

"I hate you."

"Sure, Marri. That's why you're crying all over me...Because I didn't die."

"Um, guys...What happened? Why does Wyatt think he's Chuck Norris and what letter are you talking about?"

Jiya jumped back, her eyes darting between them full of panic and apology. "I-uh...He'll explain. I love your hat, by the way." she smiled and ran back down the hall.

"What letter is she talking about?"

"I'll explain everything, just not out here."

She walked beside him down the hallway, peppering him with questions the along the way. He didn't think she realized where she was going until she was halfway in his room and he had shut the door. It cracked through the room like a gunshot, startling her enough to have her turning around to face him. He couldn't stop staring at her. It was the first time they had been truly alone in almost three days. The echoes of the last time they had been in his room together blared in the silence. He could hear her giggle and his own answering laugh. They had been so happy and he had thrown it all away for something that hadn't been worth the cost.

Color was high on her cheeks as she held his gaze. "I...What happened today, Wyatt?"

He cleared his throat and tried to focus. He rested his weapon against the side of his wall locker and put his kevlar on the small table next to the door.

"Ah, we found out where Rittenhouse's headquarters were. We have them on the run now."

Her eyes were wide and just a tad scared. "Oh. My mother?"

His smile was tight. He knew he had done the right thing. "She got away."

"Oh." Her eyes danced over his face, down his body. "Are you- are you okay? Jiya made it sound like you almost..." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the floor.

"Hey. Hey," He closed the distance between them then cupped her chin in his hand to raise her eyes to his. "I'm okay. It came close, but I'm alright. Just some busted ribs and a cut above my eye."

He felt her fingertips touch the hand that cradled her face and he felt like he couldn't breathe as they traced up his arm until she reached his face. Her thumb grazed over the small cut above his eye and he felt his control quake.

"Lucy..." His thumb reflexively returned the caress against her chin, trailing down until this thumb rested against the small red line on her throat.

He missed being able to touch her, to hold her. His free hand moved of its own violation down to her waist until it rested on the curve of her hip.

He couldn't stop the shudder of pleasure that went through him as her hand moved into his hair, her short nails scraping against his scalp. God, he was so tired. All he wanted to do was curl up against her and forget everything but the two of them. That couldn't happen, though. Not until he said what he needed to say.

"Lucy, we need to talk."

"Not yet." She murmured, bringing both of her hands to his tactical vest and undoing the straps and zipper. "Let me take care of you first."

He let her undress him like he was a child until he was standing before bare chested, showing her his battle scars. He watched her take in the sight, the smattering if bruises on his chest and arms, the large dark red bruise on the right side of his rib cage. She ran her hand down it before laying it over the bruise, as if her love could heal him. Who knows? Maybe it could.

He couldn't seem to breathe properly. He loved her so much. How could he have ever thought he could have lived without her?

"I miss you," he whispered, his left hand reaching out to play with her curls. "I miss us."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes wide with something he couldn't read. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"What happened with Jessica?"

"I told her some truths and we decided it would be better to have a clean break. She deserves a life with someone who doesn't live the kind of life that I'm living now. She deserves someone who will be wholly devoted to her, without thinking about all of the regret and pain of losing someone like you."

"Like me?"

"Like you. Listen, a part of me will always love Jessica. I'm happy she's alive, but she's not the one I want a future with. It's you. It's always going to be you."

Her head tilts to the side, her doe eyes staring at him with that something that made his heart pound at Mason. _The possibilities of what?_ He can tell she can feel it too, in the way her eyes shift across his face, then down to the floor. "I- I'll be right back."

"Don't leave."

She can't meet his eyes, her eyes still trained onto the floor. "I'm just going to get some stuff to help clean you up. Just give me a minute, okay?"

He would give her anything. "Okay. I'll- uh, take a shower and meet you back here. Take however long you need."

He took about ten minutes longer in the shower than he needed to. He needed time to figure out what he was going to say. He couldn't just blurt out 'I love you' and expect her to fall into his arms. She deserved more than that. She needed time and, god help him, so did he. He needed to figure out who he was now. He wasn't a widower with a vendetta anymore. He wasn't the man who didn't care whether he lived or died. So who was he? Who was he to these people he was trapped with in this hell hole?

He took his thoughts and his heavy heart back into his room only to find Lucy already there emptying what looked like a pharmacy out the bag she had set on his bed. She had changed out of her 1930's clothes and looked just the way he liked best. Her hair was up on the top of her head, giving him that view of her beautiful neck and those tiny ears he had been so obsessed with in Hollywood. She had on her baggy sweats and that yellow floral robe that made him want to do the most ridiculously delicious things to her body. He had indulged in many fantasies of that robe and all the things it hid from him. _Maybe now is not the best time to get carried away by your dick, Logan._

"Hey. Did you go hold up a CVS or something?"

He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she arranged the boxes and bandages. "I kinda raided the med room. I didn't know what you might need so I brought it all."

She turned to him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was nervously playing with the edge of her robe while her other hand caressed the back of her neck. He could feel his own anxiety at the thought of the conversation they needed to have. It made him feel absurdly better that she was just as nervous as he was.

He was trying to figure out what to say when she beckoned him over to her with a graceful wave of her hand. He hadn't bothered to put a shirt on, just his sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He watched her eyes take him in as he walked toward her and couldn't help but feel a little thrill. Maybe there was hope. Maybe there was a chance for the two of them.

He stopped in front of her and waited patiently while she wrapped his torso and stomach with an ace bandage. Her hands fumbled a little. He could feel them tremble against his skin. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her that he loved her, that he would always love her and that she was the only one for him. He wanted it more than anything, but he knew he had to be patient. He could only give her what she would receive.

She tied off the bandage and gave it a slight tug.

"Is that too tight?" He didn't trust himself to speak, so he just shook his head. "Okay. Maybe you can sit down and I'll clean that cut over your eye."

He sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs so she could stand between them. He tried not to look at her. He tried not to remember the last time they had been in that very same position when they had been in such a different place in their relationship. He had been able to pull her to him then and she had straddled his lap willingly, laughingly. God, had it really been less than a week? It felt like a lifetime ago and he had no one to blame but himself. He wanted it back. He wanted it all back. All he wanted was cuddles and got nothing but struggles. Maybe that should go on his gravestone. The thought made him chuckle in spite of himself.

 _Here lies Wyatt Logan…._

"What?" She asked as she wiped an alcohol pad over his cut. He hissed against the sting and was rewarded with her soft breath against his skin. "Sorry."

The silence was almost unbearable as she worked on him. He could feel the flush creeping up his neck, could see the telltale signs of discomfort on her face. He wanted nothing more than to soothe her, tell her that it was all going to be alright, but he wasn't sure if she would listen. If she would even want to.

She finished with her task but didn't pull away. She just stared down at him like he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. He couldn't look away from her; he couldn't speak. He knew there were a million things he should be saying, a million promises he should be giving her, but he couldn't move.

The air changed between them when her hand came up to his face to rest there for a moment and then moved to his hair, caressing his scalp. It reminded him so much of those tender moments in 1941 that his throat slammed shut. He moved forward slowly, to give her time to move away, until his forehead rested against her stomach and just breathed her in. He felt both of her hands on him now, one on the back of his head and the other on his back.

His hands trailed up her thighs, over the worn cotton until they rested on her hips and just held her. He knew she was crying because he could feel her stomach contract against him, he could hear her labored breathing above him. He still couldn't speak so he only wrapped his arms around her back, pressed his cheek against her and closed his eyes. Minutes went by, maybe hours. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"I can't do this." She whispered as she pulled herself away from him.

He felt the loss of her like another body blow. He stood from the bed, panic pressing into his chest.

"Please don't leave. Please don't leave me." His voice quivered, he could feel the tears twisting in his throat.

He sounded desperate, he knew it, but he didn't have time for pride. His very heartbeat was on the line. If she walked out that door now he didn't know if she would ever walk back through it.

"I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

She shook her head.

No, they weren't doing this anymore. "No, Lucy tell me. Tell me how you feel."

"It doesn't matter how I feel."

"Lucy, I am standing here with my heart in my hands. Don't tell me it doesn't matter."

Still nothing, the radio silence fills the room and he can feel what's left of his tattered heart break. _No, this is not how this ends. It can't be._

"Do you want me to tell you how I feel? Do you want me to say the words?"

He could see it now, plain as day, the heartbreak on her face. The hope that mingled with it. Her head shakes as she brings a hand up to her throat and it's all he can do not to walk over and take her into his arms.

"I don't know. I - It hurts too much to hope and then be disappointed. I don't know if I-"

"I love you," He said it before he could stop himself. Before it was too late. He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it and now it was too late to take it back. With a sad shake of his head he continued. "I should have told you before. Rufus kept trying to get me to tell you, to say it, but I thought we had all the time in the world." He laughed then, the hollow sound echoed through the room. "Did you know that I made reservations at that restaurant on the pier that you kept telling me you wanted to try?"

She looked shocked and absolutely devastated. He hated it. "You did?"

"You left to go talk to your mother and I was planning on how I was going to tell you I loved you. I was going to give it about two weeks after we got back. You would have had your sister back and would have dealt with whatever was going to happen to your mother. I wasn't going back to Pendleton for another month and I thought we had time. I was going to lay it all out for you, tell you how I felt. I started googling private security jobs up here for me because whatever we decided to do, I wasn't going to give you up." This was wrong. It was all wrong. He hadn't planned on telling her any of this, but he couldn't seem to stop. "I thought I could wait two weeks. Two weeks was nothing compared to everything we had been through and then-"

"And then the explosion happened."

"No, Lucy. Then you were _gone_ and you took my heart with you."


	4. Coming Home

Chapter Four

He took the two steps between them, cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed against the skin of her cheeks, taking her tears with them. "I saw your face every night in my dreams for six weeks. I tried to escape so I could look for you because I knew you were out there somewhere. I never let myself believe, for one second, that you were dead. I knew you were alive because you were in here." He took one of her hands a placed it over his chest so his heart was beating into her palm. "Don't you see? Don't you know what you are to me?"

She stared at the sight of her hand against his chest. "I'm afraid that one day you'll look at me and…" she smiled sadly and brought her eyes to his. "We had one night and you had a _life_ with her."

 _You will regret choosing me._ He could hear it as if she said the words out loud. "I only have one regret when it comes to you. I regret leaving this bunker without telling you and everything that came after. I _will never_ regret choosing you. I will _never_ regret loving you. I will never regret putting you first. _Never."_ He gathered her close until his lips were next to her ear. "And we aren't just one night. We are a million moments and memories and God help me, I want to make a million more. I'm gonna put you first for the rest of my life."

Her hands clutched at his back, the bandage around his torso. He could feel her tears against his neck and shoulder.

"What if it isn't enough? What if when this is all over we don't work? What if we only work because of all of this?"

He kissed her then, he couldn't help it. From the shell of her ear until he was a hair's breadth from her lips.

"If we don't work then that's on us. It won't be because Rittenhouse brought my dead wife back or because your mother wants you to follow in her footsteps. If we don't work it won't be because we didn't try. But I don't see that happening. Do you know what I see?"

She shook her head, her dark eyes never leaving his.

"I see a future. I see children with your eyes and my dimples. I see nothing but laughter and love and arguing over everything because that's who we are." He smiled at her watery chuckle. "I want to marry you. I want to fall asleep next to you for the rest of my life. That's what I want. The question is, is that what you want?"

"I don't know what to say."

She looked so bewildered and lost, it broke his heart. "You don't have to say anything right now. I think we both need some time. I want you to really think about what you want. I just told you a lot of things that I wasn't planning on saying and that's on me but if you decide you want me, I'm here. If you decided you don't want me, I'll be here too because I'm not going to let those Rittendicks take anything else from us." He pulled away from her, ran his hands down her arms until he laced his fingers with hers. "Are you okay?"

Her hands tightened on his. "I don't know. I need to think."

"Take however long you need. A month, a year. I'll be here." He let go of her hands and turned toward the mess of supplies on his bed and started throwing them in the bag she brought. "Let's clean this up and I'll walk you back to your room."

She laughed nervously. "I, uh, I'm sleeping on the couch tonight. I let Rufus and Jiya have the room."

He didn't pause in his cleaning up. "You can sleep here. I'll sleep on the couch."

"No, Wyatt. You need to sleep in a bed tonight."

He turned toward her, a small smile on his face. "Lucy, i haven't slept in over 48 hours. It really isn't going to matter where I sleep tonight. It'll be fine. Besides, I've slept in worse places. Trust me."

He watched as that adorable damn crinkle came between her eyes, her jaw firm. She was going to argue. Jesus, he loved this woman. "Listen," he began, put his hands up in supplication. "You sleep in my bed and I'll sleep there." He told her, pointing to Rufus' old bed. She opened her mouth to argue and he had had enough. "Lucy, I'm too tired to argue with you. Just get in bed and go to sleep."

He fell asleep before Lucy was done puttering around the room. His usual sleeping pattern was off, his body fighting off 48 hours of fatigue and heartache. His dreams usually consist of Lucy and his bed or the occasional dream of his Grandpa Sherwin on the banks of that shallow pond on his old property, so when his imagination morphed from Lucy's smiling face to Carol Preston's shocked eyes his mind has no idea what is going on. He felt his M-4 in his hands, his finger inching towards the trigger well. He felt the heat from the fire spreading around him, felt the ache in his bones from the fight. He heard Denise in his ear, _Take the shot!_ His body obeyed before his mind could wrap around the repercussions of what was about to happen, he felt the recoil, smelled the gunpowder as he watched Carol's chest bloom with red blood as she slid to the floor.

Part of him felt victorious, righteous, as he stood over her gasping body. This woman was supposed to protect Lucy, love her. She was just as much of a monster as his old man. While his father might have used his fists, Carol used her love as a weapon. Now she can't hurt her anymore. _I kept her safe,_ he thought. _I can keep her safe._ His mind took another sharp left turn and he watched in morbid fascination as Carol morphed back into Lucy's lithe form.

 _Shift._

She was wearing his clothes in the hallway of the bunker and he had his cell phone in his hand with the text from Jessica glowing on the screen.

 _Shift._

Lucy was bleeding out at his feet, her soft cries filled his ears and broke his heart. He dropped to his knees beside her, throwing his phone in his haste. "Lucy," his hands applied pressure to her chest while his own filled with panic. "What happened?"

"You did this." She whispered, her mouth filled with blood. "This is your fault. You killed me."

"No," He breathed, watching as her blood ran in rivulets across his fingers and hands. "No, Lucy, stay with me. You can't leave me."

Suddenly he found himself alone in the dark, his hands still wet with her blood, with Lucy nowhere to be found. He could hear Emma's cruel laugh somewhere in the darkness, could hear Lucy calling out for him.

The laughter of his old man filled his ears and Wyatt could almost smell the acrid smell of alcohol on his breath. _You've lost her, son. I told you you'd never be any damn good._ The man with eyes so like his own materialized in front of him, a beer held out in his hand for Wyatt to take. "Cheers, kid. The apple doesn't fall far from tree, does it?"

His eyes snapped open, his muscles locked, ready for combat. His breath came in shallow ragged breaths, sweat sticking his skin to the military grade sheets. He ran a hand down his face and only then did he notice the tears that mingled with the perspiration on his face. How could he have ever thought that this would be easy? He had always prided himself on being a good man, a good husband, a proud soldier. Not only had he consciously, and with intention, thrown away his marriage, he may have alienated the only person in the world who knew the real him because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Wyatt?" Lucy's voice cut through the darkness in his heart, brought him back to the light and the possibilities. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," his voice was filled with a pain he couldn't hide, with a vulnerability that scared him to his core. He cleared his throat, sat up reluctantly against the burning pain in his ribs. "I'm okay." He looked at her then, shot her a smile. "No big deal. Just pain."

Lucy sat up in his bed, her hair a dark nimbus around her head. He could tell she didn't believe a word he said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

Her eyes narrowed in the darkness, her feet touching the floor. "Don't lie to me, Wyatt. You're not good at it."

His head hurt, his heart, his body. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "It's nothing. I'm just going to go get something to drink."

He could feel her eyes on him as he walked out of the door. He needed a minute alone, a moment to process whatever the hell it was his brain was trying to tell him.

By the time he had made his way into the kitchen his breathing was somewhat normal again. He turned on the tap to cold, ran his entire head under it. He could still hear that bastard's voice in his head. He could feel the fear creeping in, the fear he hadn't felt in over fifteen years.

He turned off the faucet, almost breaking the knob in the process. He wasn't his father. The only thing the two of them had in common was the blood that ran through their veins and the gentle man who raised them both.

 _But then again…_

He watched the droplets of water fall into the sink until his eyes blurred.

Maybe his dream had been on the right track all along.

There was an anger that simmered in him, hidden underneath that false bravado that was Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan.

They called him a war hero, a leader of men. Mothers trusted him to bring their sons home.

He didn't trust himself with a butter knife sometimes.

He had these moments of rage, flashes of vicious anger.

His mind went back to the those dark days after Jessica died. After Lucy went missing. Maybe that's why his mother didn't take him with her when she left. Maybe she knew, deep down, that he wasn't any better.

A towel was thrust into his line of vision, an accented voice closely following it. "Rough night, Logan?"

Garcia Flynn was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. Wyatt glared at him, snatched the towel from his hand. "What do you want, Flynn?"

"Hey now, I didn't know you would be in here trying to drown yourself." Flynn replied, that smug smile that drove Wyatt crazy firmly in place. "I figured I would see Rufus snoring on the couch."

Wyatt scrubbed the towel roughly over his face and hair. The last thing he needed was to be dealing with the psycho while he was on the verge of having an emotional breakdown. His smile was tight as he watched Flynn pour two mugs of coffee. "I'm sorry it's me. More than you know."

Flynn's laugh set his teeth on edge as he handed him a mug. "I heard your wife is no longer with us."

Wyatt's grip tightened against the porcelain of the mug. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Doesn't matter," Flynn murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm sure Lucy is happy."

"I'm not talking about Lucy with you."

"I'm not asking you to," he shrugged as he moved to take a seat at the table. "Don't hurt her, Wyatt. She's been hurt enough."

He knew he didn't have a right to be defensive, considering he had been the one to hurt her the most, but it bled through anyway. "I never meant to hurt her."

"Well," Flynn began as he rose from his seat. "We never mean to hurt the ones we love. It's a byproduct of loving them."

Wyatt watched him leave, more confused than he had been when he walked in.

He took his time going back into the room he was sharing with Lucy, checked all the safety protocol of the bunker twice. He had hoped that by the time he got back she would be asleep, but luck was not on his side. She was making the bed he had been sleeping in, her small hand deft and sure as she tugged the sheet and blanket into place. She barely looked at him before she began speaking. "I've had some time to think and I have come to a decision."

"Okay," he nodded as he crossed over and took her hands in his. "What about?"

She couldn't look him in the eye as she spoke. "I haven't made a decision about us, but I-"

He ducked his head, caught her eye, before he gave her a reassuring smile. "But what?"

"I… do you… do you think you could sleep with me tonight?" The small hesitance in her voice winded him, his love for her unfurling in waves. He didn't miss the blush that stained her cheeks, couldn't find it anything but adorable. "I don't mean.."

"No," he reassured her, steering her towards the bed. "I know." She let him settle her in, made sure she was comfortable before sliding in beside her. He was hesitant, more so than he had ever been with her, he didn't know if he was allowed to touch her. Would she want that? Or did she only want him to sleep beside her? To protect her? He rolled over to his side, facing Lucy to see her watching him. He raised his arm, letting it hover over her. "Can I?" She didn't say anything and he thought maybe he was asking too much, but he waited, hoped that he hadn't read her wrong. He almost gave up before she smiled, turned herself into his arms and rested her cheek against his chest.

Had it really only been three days since they had last been like this?

Wyatt pulled her tighter against him, felt her smile against his skin. The answering smile that tugged his cheek was a smile he never thought he would smile again.

Holding Lucy Preston was like coming home.


End file.
